


Just The Tip

by saltandbyrne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Fingerfucking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Schmoop, Sibling Incest, Underage Character, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-15 21:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/531723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandbyrne/pseuds/saltandbyrne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wasn't sticking anything in Sam's ass until he was fifteen, and that was that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just The Tip

Dean Winchester was fifteen years old when he lost his virginity. It wasn't a particularly special or memorable experience, and it had been over faster than he'd ever admit, but it had meant something. You don't forget your first time.

And this is why, three days before his fifteenth birthday, Sam Winchester is bent over on a Kalamazoo motel bed, legs spread wide as he works finger number three into his slick, tight little ass while Dean watches. 

“Dean, please,” Sam whines, voice still doing that half-cracked puberty thing that should not be so fucking hot. He rests his cheek against the worn-out chenille bedspread and looks back at Dean with the patented Sam Winchester Puppy Eyes ™, arching his back to make his ass look that much more inviting. He's got his index, middle and ring fingers sunk into the third knuckle, pinky flaring up like he's demurely holding a cup of tea that Dean desperately wants a taste of.

Dean is a fucking saint.

Nevermind that Sam's been sucking Dean off for well over a year at this point, and vice versa for even longer, but Dean has principles. Not like his own life was a roadmap for normal behavior, like it was some time-worn teenage ritual for Dean to slide into Sam's bed after he'd lost the aforementioned virginity, pressing his chest to Sam's slender back and whispering all the filthy details into Sam's ear while Sam jerked himself off and came into Dean's waiting palm. Nevermind all that. 

Dean wasn't sticking anything in Sam's ass until he was fifteen, and that was that.

Not that Dean didn't want to, holy fuck did he want, thought about it so much it verged on obsession. And he talked about it plenty. Orgasm #1 for both of them this evening had happened while Dean was pressed down on top of Sam, Sam's hand stretched out around both their cocks as they slipped and ground together, sweat-slick and precome-wet as Dean sucked Sam's lips pink and swollen. “Gonna make it so good for you, Sammy,” Dean licked up his neck, “eat your pretty little hole out for hours, make you beg for me to stretch you out with my cock.” Sam always shook like a leaf at that, lip worried in his teeth in that “gonna come in 0.002 seconds” face Dean always worked him up to.

“Bet you're gonna come while I fuck you, Sammy, shoot all over yourself without a hand on your cock.” Dean had sucked Sam's earlobe in between his teeth, softly nipping at it as Sam started to moan and rock his hips up faster. “Come all over yourself while you're split open on my dick,” Sam had been so close, breaths coming in and out in little puffs between his teeth, “bet I'll be able to pull out and rub my cock in it, fuck your own come back into you until I come in your ass, so it's both of us leaking out when I fuck, fuck Sammy,” Dean had growled, feeling four little half-moons denting his back as Sam dug his fingernails in, coming in a hot spurt between their bellies. Dean tripped right after him, Sam's hand jerking him through it just the way Dean liked. Sam had an honorary PhD in jerking Dean off at this point, with highest honors.

But Sam was getting sick of waiting, demanding little bitch he could be when he wanted to. It was just like Sam to find ways to circumvent Dean's self-imposed restraint. Like now, when there was definitely something in Sam's ass, even if it wasn't attached to Dean. 

“C'mon, Dean, what the fuck difference does three days make?” Sam huffs out, blinking back at Dean through his own spread legs while he fucks himself on his hand. Only one of the lights in the room works, but it's plenty bright for Dean to see the way the vaseline on Sam's fingers glisten when he pulls them out, leaving his pink little hole stretched and shining.

That had been another thing, fucking Sam and his can-do attitude. Dean thought he'd been so smart, not letting himself buy lube. More than Dean wants to fuck Sam, more than he wants anything on this earth, he wants to keep Sam safe, so there was no way he'd be tempted to fuck Sam dry. It had been a bullet-proof plan until Sam had disappeared into that drug store in Freemont and made Dean's head explode later that night, scooping up some stolen petroleum and sinking two fingers into himself like it was nothing. Dean's jaw had hit the floor and his dick had wanted to punch him in the face.

Dean won't admit it, but he loves that smart-ass part of Sam that finds a way to bend every rule and get whatever his bitchy little heart wants. That part of Sam that had crawled up in between Dean's legs one night, dick hard against his own as he rubbed them together, mouth all honey-sweet and perfectly reasonable at Dean's ear as he explained that Dean wouldn't technically be sticking his tongue inside Sam's ass if he'd just lick around it a little bit, like you do with all those girls, Dean, bet you're so good at it, Dean, bet you could make me come so hard with your mouth on my ass, Dean, like I need you to, Dean, please, Dean.

Dean had come so hard he was sure the only thing keeping him from spraying the ceiling was Sam's flat little stomach blocking it. He'd spent the rest of the night with his face planted between Sam's legs, trying not to recognize that his tongue was, in fact, way the fuck up inside of Sam's ass. 

And that had been orgasm #2 for Sammy tonight, Dean's tongue fucked into his ass as far as the laws of physics would allow, thumbs pressed down on either side to get it in that much deeper because fuck if there was any place Dean would rather be. Dean's own cock had leaked out a stream of precome that would put a girl to shame as he felt Sam's hole shudder and clench around his tongue, wicked little promise of what it would do around Dean's thick, hard, leaking wet oh fuck, god, yes...

Orgasm #2 for Dean had hit the threadbare bedsheet, which was gonna get up and walk out on its own if it got any more jizz on it. Three days without their dad was hell on the sheets.

And those sheets were only getting worse, Sam's cock hard again as he sinks his fingers back into himself, dainty little pinky disappearing along with the other three to stretch his hole out that much further and make Dean's stomach do backflips.

“Just do it, Dean, jesus christ, just fuck me already.” Sam really lives up to his nickname sometimes. 

“Told you, Sammy,” Dean says breathlessly, hand clamped down around his cock. “Gotta wait.”

Sam sighs petulantly and shifts his weight, balancing on his chest as he brings his other hand around. Dean starts to stroke his cock, sticky with his and Sam's spunk, lip sucked in between his teeth to keep himself from groaning as Sam pulls his fingers out. 

Fucking christ, there's no question that he's ready, hole gaping pink and pretty like a “Welcome Home Dean!” sign, Sam's slim hips canting up as he turns his head to the side and leans forward. Dean's hand speeds up as Sam spreads his legs a little wider, muscle of his rim fluttering and fucking winking at Dean. Fucking tease.

“Then at least do something for me, ok?” Sam gripes, bringing his hands back behind him. He works two fingers of his left hand in, sinking down like a hot knife through butter. 

“Not gonna fuck you, Sammy.” Dean has to say it through gritted teeth but he means it. He's not giving in now, not after everything he's given up and let Sam talk him into, not when he knows that they're gonna do this until they're both old or burning in hell, not when Sam looks so fucking small bent in half in front of Dean and his not-being-arrogant-just-honest huge dick. 

“I know,” Sam says snottily, bitchface framed by his skinny, splayed legs. “But you can still come in my ass.” Sam brings his other hand up, sinking two more fingers in with a long “hngh” sound that does nothing to cover up Dean's plaintive moan. Sam is seriously trying to kill him.

“I can't, Sammy, c'mon,” Dean says desperately, his heart jumping into his mouth as Sam pushes four of his fucking fingers in and bends them, pulling himself open until Dean can see the empty space inside of him, fuck, fuck, fuck it's so tempting, have to wait, have to wait, why do we have to wait, fuck-

“You don't have to put it in me, not really,” Sam says, voice jagged like he just hopped off a treadmill. 

“Just the tip.” 

Score one for team Sammy. Dean wonders what he did so very wrong and so very right in a past life to wind up here, stripping his cock while Sam rocks his hips back in time with Dean's hand. Anyone fortunate enough to walk into the room right now would swear they were fucking, two sets of hips working in perfect time as Dean jacks himself so close to Sam he raps his knuckles against his brother's every few strokes.

“Gonna come, Sammy, fuck, want me to come in your ass, baby boy, fill you up good, fucking god fuck,” and Dean loses it, crown of his dick not really technically inside Sam, more like occupying the negative space of it between Sam's fingers. He holds his hand on the small of Sam's back as he shoots into him, trying to angle it to get as much inside Sam as possible. Where it belongs.

The last dribble of it runs down Dean's fingers. He sucks them into this mouth without thinking as he sinks down to sit on his heels, sighing as he watches Sam flex his hole and “Oh my god, Sam,” Dean can't help but moan around his own come-wet knuckles. Sam lets out a filthy-cute mewl and pushes it out, thick white trail of Dean's spunk running down his taint and dripping onto the sheets.

“Jesus christ,” Dean mutters, eyes wide with something like reverence as Sam rolls over onto his back, heedless of the sticky mess underneath him.

“I fucking love you, Sammy.” It's out of his mouth before he can catch it, no less sincere for his reluctance to say it when they do this, but it's scary, it's fucking terrifying, getting to witness this. He hasn't even fucked Sam yet and he's already ruined. 

“Love you, too,” Sam says softly, no snark in it. Dean settles himself down next to Sam's side, getting a hand in Sam's hair and pulling him in for a kiss. 

“Love you more if you fucked me,” Sam mumbles against his lips, smile breaking over his face. Dean rolls his eyes and pulls Sam's pretty girl-hair. 

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Sam curls up next to him after Dean turns the light off. He's asleep in a minute, snuffling against Dean's shoulder as Dean watches the clock roll over to midnight. He smiles and sets his mental countdown to 48 hours.


End file.
